'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe - 'Tis dimmer than a Lace - No stature has it, like a Fog When you approach the place - Nor any voice imply it here Or intimate it there A spirit - how doth it accost - What function hath the Air? This limitless Hyperbole Each one of us shall be - 'Tis Drama - if Hypothesis It be not Tragedy | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DANTE by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI THE MAY MAGNIFICAT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS DARDANELLES by THEODORE AUBANEL THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY by JAMES BEATTIE THE LAST MAN: INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE WORLD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |